Inner Longing
There is a pit-a-pater feeling that rumbles in our hearts. It is a feeling of the most vulnerable kind that we hide deep so no one can see it. This feeling is the kind of yearning we hold in the hidden recesses of our wounded heart that secretly still holds the story of the need to be held, loved, seen, witnessed, and honored. I can almost see our ancestors around the growing fire, singing and dancing the ancient tune of love, urging us to remember again.
It is an innocent yearning to belong to something, someone, God, nature herself. This longing is a natural desire that exist within us as children, a primal yearning to love without borders, without conditions, without limits. This is the way a child loves, with curiosity and adventure to explore what could be, a true affinity of exploring the edges of the unknown around them. Yet as our wounds grow and deepen with age, we begin to distrust this primal bold wisdom of our hearts and replace it with cynicism, and darkness. We unknowingly fall into a sense of self-deception that our hearts cannot be trusted, and we must trust and rely on logic instead.
Yet what would it mean for us to return to that childlike hour to embrace the wonder of love again? To trust despite the thick layers of hurt and grief. To be more faithful to love than fear. What would it be like to love so deeply, so widely, that it captivates the breath allowing us to return to our original state of vulnerable innocence? I wonder what it would be like to expose myself to taste life not from the sacred recess of my brokenness but from the evergreen part of me that has never tasted woundedness? I think there is a part of me that still exist that is pure, unblemished, and belongs to only itself. In this space I, we can come to find that it was not our hearts that deceived us but our own attachments to the past we never learned to relinquish.
We still unknowingly drag the past behind us as we walk, rattling the earth disturbing and digging up old bones that deserve to lay in rest. It is my hope we can put the old wounds to rest, give it a good burial once and for all with all the dignity it deserves. To say thank you for the lessons of growth and to say hello to the new before us. It is my hope that we can come back to the wise heart that knows. To become more childlike, filled with wonder once again. To play in this playground that is our life, to feel not just a little but feel it all. To offer the full story of who we are rather than hide behind the curtain of our pain.
We can find courage to not cheapen this human experience but to toss our net the way Jesus did and trust that we will catch fish. The fish for us is a life full of abundance and love, instead of dread, daily survival, and fear. The whole story commands us to walk with both our sufferings, joys, and love. I wonder if I can be so bold as to live in this ordinary way of choosing love, not to attach too but to give me wings to fly and be free. This is the great divide we come to, to make peace with the valley and dry season of our lives and rejoice when we are standing on the mountain top reveling in the view. Life is accepting that both belong, and we can learn to hold them equally with love.
